


Aziraphale and Crowley's First Christmas

by Etaleah



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Baking, Bonding, Child Warlock Dowling, Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve, Christmas Morning, Christmas Music, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crying, Don't copy to another site, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Family, First Christmas, Food, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, Holidays, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kindness, M/M, Mall Santa Claus, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Pining, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Romance, Shopping, Shopping Malls, True Love, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 14:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etaleah/pseuds/Etaleah
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley get roped into celebrating Christmas with the Dowlings. Nothing about that is going to be easy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	1. The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Nanny Ashtoreth took one look at Harriet Dowling's face and braced herself for the worst. To see Harriet angry or unhappy was nothing unusual; the woman was always fighting with her husband over the phone or complaining to someone about something. Seeing her worried and nervous, however—that was something else.

"Is something wrong, dear?" Nanny asked. She much preferred to get whatever it was out in the open so they could deal with it and be done with it.

"Indeed, why the long face, missus?" Brother Francis added. He was sitting across from Nanny and looking at her with that stupid bucktoothed grin of his.

Harriet exhaled. "It's nothing," she lied, clearly. "Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice. It's just so hard to get Warlock down for a nap, and when he's awake, it's impossible to do anything—"

"Yes, I know," Nanny said, her patience rapidly fading. Hadn't she been the one putting that stubborn brat down for his naps every damn day? There were times when it took a miracle to get him to go to sleep. Literally.

"Right. Well, anyway." She sat up straight. "I know it's a silly thing, but now that it's December, we're heading into Christmas season, and I _really _want us to have a good Christmas this year. Like, the best we've ever had. And since you two spend the most time with Warlock, I wanted to ask your help with that."

"Ooh, I love a good Christmas," Brother Francis said because of course he did. "Such a jolly, happy time. But pray tell, what makes this year extra special?"

Harriet sighed. She spoke quietly. "Ted—Mr. Dowling—hasn't been home once all year. He didn't even come for Warlock's birthday, the bastard. Oh, sorry." She covered her mouth. "You two shouldn't have heard that, please forget I said it."

"Mum's the word, my dear," Nanny told her, making a mental note to tell Ted and Warlock about it later.

"Thank you. Anyway, he said he'd be coming home for Christmas, so it'll be the one time of the year that we're finally all together. Last year he couldn't make it, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you how upset that made Warlock."

That was an understatement. He had taken every present under the tree and thrown them across the room, stamping his feet and screaming at the top of his lungs until Nanny had, well, let's just say, _persuaded _him to stop.

"Oh yes, I remember that very well, the poor lad." Brother Francis shook his head. "But I'm jolly as a roger to hear that the master's coming home this year."

_Jolly as a roger. Honestly._

"Me too. Which brings me to my point," she looked at them both. "That I want to make this year extra special for all of us. If you two would be willing to put in some extra time to, I don't know, help us decorate the house, bake some cookies, go with us when we do our shopping, that kind of stuff, I'd be really grateful. And of course I'd pay you extra for the time."

"Why, I'd love to! Think nothin' of it, my dear ma'am." Brother Francis tipped his hat. "Christmas is such a lovely time a year, and don't nothin' make me happier than workin' to make it lovely for other people."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." She turned to Nanny. "Miss Ashtoreth? I know Warlock can be a handful, so I understand if you'd rather have the time off…"

She would have indeed rather had the time off, but Brother Francis had forced her hand. After all, she couldn't allow the Antichrist to have that much good influence without the bad to balance it out. And she didn't want to think about what would happen if Hell got wind of it.

"Of course, Mrs. Dowling. I should love nothing more."

Harriet smiled, possibly the first real smile Nanny could remember seeing from her. "Thank you both. Really, I can't tell you what a relief that is."

"We're just glad to have the opportunity to be Santa's little helpers," Brother Francis assured her. "We'll start Operation Happy Holidays first thing tomorrow."

* * *

"You just had to, didn't you?" Crowley said as Aziraphale sat down in front of him on the bus ride home. "Just had to sign us up for extra work. We could have spent Christmas relaxing."

Aziraphale turned around and gave him a look. "Now that's unfair, Crowley. I didn't sign us _both _up. Just myself."

Look at him, trying to wiggle out of it. Crowley shook his head. "You know damn well that if you're with the boy, I have to be with him too. Otherwise our whole plan is ruined. And that's a lot more important than 'Operation Happy Holidays,' as you so stupidly put it."

"Oh please, it won't do a thing to the plan. Besides, didn't you see the look on her face? Christmas is a special time, particularly for families. A demon may not see the importance of such things, but as an angel, it is my responsibility to lend a hand."

_"__As an angel, it is my responsibility to lend a hand," _Crowley mocked. "And how are you gonna do that? Put a bow on Sister Slug and stick her in the Antichrist's stocking?"

"You hush!" Aziraphale snapped. "I will do whatever is necessary to give the Dowlings a good Christmas. Frankly, I'm grateful for the opportunity. For all that we've seen hundreds of Christmases go by, we've never really celebrated it ourselves. Here is our chance to try it out."

Crowley stuck out his tongue. "Please, the only thing worth doing at Christmas time is watching everybody try to kill each other at the shops." Crowley had started Black Friday back in the 50's, and had nurtured it along since then until it became the infamous global death trap it was today. The first time someone was trampled to death in the United States in a mad rush to enter a store at four in the morning (ironically, just hours after Americans had finished being thankful for what they already had), the Dark Council had awarded him another commendation for Outstanding Job Performance.

Aziraphale wasn't listening. "I've always thought it such a pretty season, and think of the traditions we could have fun with at the Dowlings! We could give gifts and watch the films and wear those beautiful sweaters—"

"Whoa, no no no no. _No. _I draw the line at ugly Christmas sweaters." Crowley crossed his arms and shook his head. "Nobody is putting one of those eyesores on me."

"But they're so festive and colorful!" Aziraphale insisted. He smiled. "I can't wait to wear one."

Crowley gagged at the thought, and was grateful that the bus was beginning to slow down as his stop approached. He gathered his nanny clothes, stood up quickly, and gave a slight wave to Aziraphale, who was still going on to himself about sweaters, and hurried off.

"Ugly Christmas sweaters. Really." He rolled his eyes as he walked toward his building, trying not to feel too annoyed. With any luck, the stuff Harriet Dowling wanted them to do would be easy and not take too long. Then he could go back to spending Christmas getting drunk like he usually did.

It was only a little extra time with Aziraphale and Warlock. What could possibly go wrong?


	2. Decking the Halls

The next day dawned bright and beautiful for Brother Francis as he skipped into work with a perpetually frowning Nanny Ashtoreth trudging behind him. Today ended the first week of December, and the brisk breeze made him feel energetic and happy to be alive. He couldn't help but sing.

"Dashing through the snow, on a one-horse open sleigh…"

"Oh, do shut up," Nanny said. "Don't you realize if you start singing those bloody carols now, we'll all be sick of them by the time Christmas actually comes?"

"Nonsense, m' lady!" Brother Francis told her, wagging a finger. "Why, Mrs. Dowling herself made a special request for some extra Christmas cheer, and I for one intend to give it to 'em." Before Nanny could retort, he continued, "Over the hills we go, laughing all the way!"

Nanny rolled her eyes and put her fingers in her ears as they approached the Dowling home. Chuckling, Brother Francis sang, "Bells on bobtails ring, making spirits bright, what fun it is to—oh, good gracious!"

He and Nanny stopped in their tracks, at which point she proceeded to break character by saying "Holy shit."

Not a single millimeter of the Dowling house was left uncovered by what the two of them realized must be thousands of lights. They illuminated the roof, the siding, the windows and shutters, the fence, the gate, and even the trees. Over the chimney was a sign made of lights that read "Santa Stops Here" and throughout the house, the lights formed various shapes like stars, wreaths, and snowflakes. Garland with multicolored lights was arranged along the top of the fence and lights were strung up on every branch of every tree. And that wasn't even getting into the lawn.

Upon that perfectly kept grass (which Brother Francis was most proud of, thank you very much) were endless inflatables and dancing light-covered figures. There was a train filled with presents, penguins with scarves and hats, elves, snowmen, gingerbread men, reindeer, stockings, Christmas trees, lollipops, candy canes, Santa Claus, a sign with "Santa's Workshop" printed on it, and most inaccurate depictions of angels and the Nativity. At the center of the house was a red and green "Merry Christmas!" sign blinking on and off.

"Well," Brother Francis said, searching for words. "They certainly didn't waste any time, did they?"

"This house is the very _definition _of overkill," Crowley said, for in his shock he had suddenly dropped the Nanny disguise. "It's nauseating. I can barely see with all those lights in my eyes."

"Oh come now, Crowley, it's quite beautiful," Aziraphale said, deciding for the moment to drop his own disguise as well. "It is a bit of a shock at first, but I expect the more we're around it, the more it will grow on us."

"Yeah, if it doesn't blind us first," Crowley said, pushing his shades up higher on his face.

Aziraphale sighed. "Must you be such a sourpuss? This is the time of year to be merry and festive." When Crowley responded with a gagging sound, he added, "At least _pretend _to be impressed for the sake of our jobs."

"Right, all right." Crowley straightened up and then said in Nanny's voice, "Lead the way, dear gardener."

"With pleasure, madam," Brother Francis smiled. They had just strolled through the gate when Harriet came rushing out to meet them.

"Oh good, you're here! What do you think? I had the workers come and put it up early this morning, I'm hoping it'll be a nice surprise for Warlock." She looked at them nervously. "Is it too much?"

"Not at all, ma'am," Brother Francis said before Nanny could open her mouth. "Why, I think it's just about the purtiest house I ever did see."

"Aw, thank you." Harriet touched her heart. "And Nanny?"

"Well, if you want my completely honest opinion…" Brother Francis gave her a look. "I have never in my life seen any house quite like this. Dear Warlock is getting exactly what he deserves."

Harriet sighed in relief. "I'm so glad. Tonight we're planning to decorate the tree, and that's where you two come in." She beckoned them inside and handed Brother Francis an armload of greenery. "I'd like you to plant these poinsettias and holly today. And Nanny, if you could keep Warlock out of the way while the tree is being brought in and we're finishing up inside the house, I'd be really grateful. Then the three of us can do the tree when it starts to get dark."

"Yes ma'am, right away," Brother Francis said. He hurried off, but not before he caught the envy in Nanny's face. Working outside while the Antichrist was inside wouldn't have sat well with the forces of Hell, and Nanny often watched Brother Francis with no small amount of sadness when he worked outside. On the rare occasions when Warlock was napping, she would often come out and help him with the plants.

As soon as Harriet was out of earshot, he whispered to Nanny, "Don't you worry. I'll be sure to save at least a few poinsettias and sprigs of holly for you." He was relieved when that got a smile out of her. They hurried off to their respective jobs, and Brother Francis whistled carols all the way.

* * *

The work was not easy. A yard full of lights and inflatables made for very difficult gardening. By the time the last poinsettia was planted and the holly arranged, Brother Francis was tired and covered in dirt. He miracled it away, grateful his body wasn't the sort that needed to sweat to cool itself off.

Nanny and Harriet seemed similarly exhausted when he returned to the house to join them. The former had sunk into a chair and the latter was bustling about grabbing boxes and opening ornament bins. Only Warlock seemed happy, bouncing around the tree and spouting something about how "Santa Claus is gonna bring me lots and lots of presents!"

"Indeed, but only if you're a very good boy," Brother Francis reminded him. "Santa Claus only gives presents to good little boys and girls."

"Right," Nanny said, fixing on Warlock with a somewhat deathly stare. "And it would be most dreadful if someone were to tell 'Santa Claus' about how you insist on treating others' music CDs as coloring books."

"I won't do it again, Nanny! Honest."

"No, I don't expect you will," she said, and even Brother Francis felt a chill at her tone.

"Okay everyone, here are the decorations," Harriet said, seemingly immune to the tension. "I've got lights, ornaments, tinsel, garland, an angel, the star on top, all of it." Turning to Warlock, she asked, "Honey, do you want to start us off?"

"Yeah!" he rushed to the box and dragged out a long cord of both white and multicolored lights, to which Nanny mumbled something about having more than enough of those already. He started to wave it around like a lasso when Harriet quickly stopped him.

"No, not like that, honey. We've got to weave it around the branches like this." She took the cords from him and began to demonstrate. "Around and around. Nanny and Brother Francis will help you reach the high parts."

The words were barely out of her mouth before Warlock immediately ran to Nanny and jumped up and down, arms outstretched. "Pick me up! Pick me up!"

"Let's give your Nanny a break, young master, I gotcha." Brother Francis held out his arms. Nanny gave him a grateful smile and Warlock rushed over to him and jumped into his grasp. He was much heavier than expected and it was no small feat to hold up both him and the lights, but somehow Brother Francis managed it. With Nanny and Harriet's help, the tree was soon wrapped in beautiful lights with a lovely star on top.

_Thank Heaven, _Brother Francis thought as he finally set Warlock down, panting. He was horribly out of shape, not having worked out much since the Arthurian times.

"Can we do the ornaments now? Can we, can we, pleeeeaaase?" Warlock whined. Before Harriet could answer, her mobile rang. "Noooo, _Mom-mee_!" Warlock stamped his foot. His mother's mobile ringing often meant she disappeared behind a closed door for some time.

"Don't worry, honey, I'm just looking to see who it is." She retrieved it from her purse and stared at the screen, looking worried. "Oh, shit, it's Ted," she muttered. Turning to Warlock with a forced smile, she said, "Honey, it's Daddy!"

"I wanna talk to him!" Warlock demanded. Harriet answered the call and set the phone on the table.

"Go ahead. It's on speaker."

"HI DADDY!" Warlock greeted his father in a voice so loud it made everyone in the room flinch.

"Hey little tyke, how's it going?" Mr. Dowling's voice boomed from the phone. "Always glad to hear from you."

Brother Francis and Nanny exchanged looks. They doubted this.

"We're decorating the Christmas tree," Warlock told him proudly. "It's gonna look super amazing!"

"Oh yeah?" He already sounded distracted.

"When are you coming home?" Warlock asked.

"Uh, not sure yet." Harriet sat up straighter, looking nervous. "I'll let you know."

"Ted," Harriet said, frowning. "You _are _coming home, right? Before Christmas?"

There was too long a pause for comfort. "Well, I'm certainly gonna try my best, honey."

"No, Ted. There is no 'try.' You listen to me." She snatched up the phone, took it off speaker, and headed toward her room with it pressed against her ear. "Your son has been waiting all year—"

"Mommy! I wasn't done talking to him," Warlock whined.

"Mommy needs to talk to Daddy now. Just keep decorating the tree with Nanny and Brother Francis." She disappeared into her room and locked the door behind her. Brother Francis couldn't make out what she was saying, but the angry tone of her voice told him it wasn't good.

Warlock's lips began to pucker. Nanny clapped her hands. "Come now! That tree isn't going to decorate itself, you know."

"Why, you're right," Brother Francis said, following her lead. "I believe a certain someone wanted to hang up the ornaments?"

"ME!" Warlock yelled, making them flinch again. He hurried to the box and grabbed the first colorful ball his chubby fists could reach. "Help me put it way up high."

* * *

The rest of the decorating took some time, but was much more fun than even Brother Francis would have thought. Nothing satisfied a hard worker so much as seeing the fruits of his labor, and by the time they were finished, the tree was as beautiful as the rest of the house. There was even a lovely angel at the top, which elicited in no shortage of grumbling from Nanny but nevertheless completed the design. Anyway, she seemed to like it more than she let on, as she was constantly checking to make sure the tree had plenty of water.

"Aw, they're all gone," Warlock said as he reached into the box only to come up empty-handed.

"You've used them all up, dear," Nanny pointed out. "And a fine job it is too."

"Indeed," Brother Francis said. "A finer tree than this I never did see." To Nanny, he said, "I think I should like one for my shop." He could see it now: right between the folklore books and the memoir section. Such a cheerful source of light it would be, perfect for late night reading and listening to his favorite records.

The door to Harriet's room opened and she came out, looking frazzled but forcing a smile for Warlock. "Wow, it looks beautiful, sweetheart! You did a great job. All of you."

"I'm the bestest at tree decorating," Warlock proudly proclaimed.

"You sure are," she said, giving him a hug. To Nanny and Brother Francis, she mouthed "Thank you." They nodded and began to take their leave for the weekend.

On the bus ride home, Crowley turned to Aziraphale. "That phone call wasn't a good sign."

"No," Aziraphale agreed. "I do hope Mr. Dowling is able to make it home."

Crowley scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure he's able. The real question is whether he wants to."

"Surely not…" Aziraphale said, though he knew why Crowley thought so. He hated to think what would happen if Mr. Dowling never arrived. Warlock and Harriet would be deeply upset and furious, neither of which was a good thing when the Antichrist was involved.

Aziraphale shook his head. No, he wasn't going to go there. Such thoughts would only spoil a perfectly fine season. Instead he kept his mind focused on the Christmas tree he was going to set up in his shop, and decided to try even harder with young Warlock on Monday.


	3. Santa Claus Is (Not) Comin' to Town

Most people hated Monday mornings, which was one of the primary reasons Hell had invented them. This was yet another area in which Crowley (or Nanny, at the moment), was an outlier.

Monday mornings, to her, were clean slates. The chance to start over and leave whatever rubbish might have happened in the previous week behind you. Monday morning was full of possibility, potential, and a new week with no problems in it. Ergo, Nanny was unusually cheerful when she entered the Dowling residence on this fine December day, whistling as she hung up her umbrella near the foyer and smoothed her curls. Warlock was waiting for her at the living room table with a pencil and paper.

"Good morning, dear," she said with a smile. "My, whatever are you working on so diligently?"

"A letter to Santa Claus!" Warlock said happily.

Nanny's good mood was eviscerated.

She hated Santa Claus.

Not the character himself, per se, but more the lie surrounding him. It was all well and good to tell children a nice story about Saint Nicholas and put up a few depictions of him as decoration, but to tell children he was _actually _going to visit? That their presents came from him and that he was a real person? That seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Kids were doomed to find out anyway, once they were old enough to start asking questions and working out the math of how many children were in the world versus how many hours were in a night. Why do that to them? Besides, wasn't it risky for the parents to do this? If you made it clear that all of the child's presents were from you (or other relatives), then the child would be more likely to ask for something that was within your means and be more grateful than greedy. If you told them their presents were coming from a magic man who had access to every toy and goodie in the entire world and could therefore bring you whatever you wanted, naturally you would demand as much as you could think of. If Nanny had thought she could ask a magical entity for anything she wanted, she would have asked for the moon and then some. 

The whole scam was a recipe for heartbreak. The first heartbreak came on Christmas morning when they didn't receive everything they asked for and assumed it was because they had been bad. And the second came when they grew up.

Which begged the question: Why on earth did people do it?

_Maybe I can tell him now, and let him down easy, _she thought. Encourage some critical thinking too, while she was at it. Taking her seat across from Warlock, she asked, "You believe Santa Claus will come to visit?"

"Yeah, he goes everywhere," Warlock said, scribbling furiously at the paper. The list was a long one, of course.

"Who told you a thing like that?" She took care to keep her voice gentle. _I shouldn't be, _she realized. _Hell might be on me if I'm not as nasty as possible. _Yet when Warlock did things like this, it was easy to forget he wasn't just an ordinary kid.

"Mommy," he said.

"Do you think she's right about that?"

"Yeah. She's Mommy."

Hmm, how to handle this? She had an idea. "That so? Has Mommy ever seen this Santa Claus?"

He looked up, eyes wide. "Yeah, she told me she saw him last year when he was out delivering presents!"

Damn. Another lie. Nanny was trying to puzzle out how she could untangle this one when Brother Francis joined them from the garden.

"There you are, such a perfect pair!" he said, grinning from where he stood by the door. "I see you're workin' on yer letter to Santa Claus, or Father Christmas, as they say in these parts."

"Yeah, he's gonna bring me a whole truckload of toys!" Warlock shouted. "A _gazillion _of 'em!"

Nanny stood up. "Excuse me, Brother Francis, may we speak for a moment?"

He gave her that suspicious glance that said he knew something was up. "Why, certainly," he said uneasily. She beckoned him into the hallway and he followed her. As soon as Warlock was out of earshot and they had checked that Harriet was nowhere nearby, they dropped their disguises.

"What the heaven are you doing?" Crowley hissed. "Why are you and Harriet Dowling lying to him like that?"

"What do you mean? I don't lie, I'm an angel."

"Oh, so you mean that on Christmas Eve, Santa Claus is _actually _going to show up? He will literally be here, live and in person?" When Aziraphale rolled his eyes, Crowley pressed on. "Why tell him something you know damn well isn't true? You're gonna break the kid's heart. Which won't exactly bode well for you and me, considering we're trying to _prevent _him from becoming evil."

Aziraphale shook his head. "It's not lying, it's just telling a story. Adding a little magic to a child's holiday."

_How does he not get it? _"He is writing a fucking _letter _to Santa Claus right now! He's gonna mail it. On Christmas morning, he'll expect to see 'a gazillion' presents from Santa. And thanks to you lot, he's gonna be disappointed." When Aziraphale didn't answer, he asked, "Unless you're planning to miracle up a gazillion gifts? Have fun explaining that one to his mother."

"It's not lying," Aziraphale said, though he sounded much less convinced. He actually looked quite conflicted. "Stories aren't lying. And there _was _a real Saint Nicholas, as I'm sure you remember. He just…had his image changed over time and his abilities embellished."

Crowley laughed sarcastically. The angel was diddling over semantics and refusing to see the bigger picture. How very like him. "Yeah, well try telling that to Warlock. Go on, try."

Aziraphale sighed. "Look, it wasn't _my _idea to tell him about Santa. That was his mother's doing. I simply went along with it. If we do this right, we can keep him believing in Santa until after his eleventh birthday, at which point it won't matter if he figures it out." He adjusted his hat. "But if you want to go in there, break his heart, and risk endangering the entire world in the process, I suppose I can't stop you." He left the room, leaving a growling and grumbling Crowley behind.

_Great. Of course he makes me be the bad guy. _He sighed. _I'm always the bad guy._

He assumed the disguise again and headed back into the living room. Harriet's voice could now be heard along with Warlock's.

"Wow, this is a really nice letter, honey."

"I wrote it all by myself," Warlock said proudly.

"You sure did. But you didn't say what kind of toys you want."

"I don't know," Warlock said. "I just want toys."

Harriet pretended to gasp. Honestly, why did people insist on doing that with children? _Just talk to them like normal, _Nanny thought. _They're small, not stupid._

"Warlock, I have an idea," she said.

Nanny froze. Oh no. Please no.

"How would you like to go to the mall with me and Nanny and Brother Francis to look at toys today? Then you can tell Santa exactly which ones you want?"

_Noooooo._

"Yeah!" Warlock cheered. "The mall! The mall! The mall!"

Nanny slumped against the wall and closed her eyes.

This was going to be the longest work day of her life.

* * *

Their first fifteen seconds inside the mall made Nanny realize it was nowhere near as bad as she had feared. It was much, much, worse.

All three miles of it were wall-to-wall people, practically rubbing shoulders as they hurried past with armloads of shopping bags and screaming children in tow. Carols jingled overhead, though they were drowned out by the mass of humanity below, and you couldn't walk five feet without a salesperson pushing you to "Try our new scent!" "Take this flyer! Come on, it's free." "Would you like to take a survey and enter to win a free gift card?" Lines stretched around the outside of every store, and Nanny began to feel hot and uncomfortably stuffy in her many articles of clothing with so many people around generating body heat. She envied Brother Francis his lightweight white shirt. Naturally, he was unbothered by all of this.

"By golly! Just imagine all the happiness the items bought here today will bring on Christmas morning," he mused. "Such a happy time."

"Yeah, but I wasn't expecting it to be quite this crowded," Harriet said, looking around nervously. "Thank god for valet parking or I doubt we would have been able to make it in here."

"Best to get it over with," Nanny said. She was afraid if they didn't, she'd curse everyone there and take her permanent leave of the Dowling family, Antichrist or no.

"Mommy, I wanna look at the toys!" Warlock whined.

"Okay, we'll start heading that way." Harriet took his hand and the four of them fought through the crowds for a good few minutes, stretching Nanny's patience to its limits. Funnily enough, the only reason she hadn't exploded yet was Brother Francis. He seemed so happy at all the gift-toting humans around him that she couldn't help but be in awe of him. _He's a marvel to have that kind of thinking. Wish I could—_

"MOMMY!" Warlock's shout could be heard even over all of the chatter around them, and made some of the people nearby jump. He pointed to something in the center of the mall. "IT'S SANTA!"

_Oh. Fuck. No._

Sitting on a throne-like chair, high on a platform in the middle of the mall, was Santa Claus. Well, someone dressed up to look like him, rather. He had a small child on his lap and was saying something to them, fake beard shaking as he spoke. It was so obviously fake that Nanny had no idea how even the smallest and dullest of children could possibly fall for it, but apparently they did, because the line to see Santa was wrapped around the mall.

Warlock was no exception. "Mommy, look, look! It's Santa!" he cried, jumping up and down.

"I see him," Harriet said, increasingly nervous. "But you know, honey, that's not the real—"

"I gotta go talk to him!" Warlock told her. He tugged on her hand. "Come on, I _hafta_ see Santa!"

Nanny could tell by Harriet's face that she was as terrified by that line as Nanny was. Even Brother Francis looked uneasy. "Warlock, wouldn't you rather go to the toy store and look at all the cool toys? Then you could see Santa afterward and tell him exactly what you want."

"Noooo, I hafta see him noooow," Warlock insisted, lips beginning to quiver. "Please, Mommy, I really, _really _wanna see him."

Nanny glared at Brother Francis. _You see? See what happens when you lie to kids? They believe you. _And she had a feeling if it came down to waiting in that line for several hours or facing the wrath of Hell for all eternity, the latter was going to look like the better option.

"Don't you worry, Mrs. Dowling," Brother Francis said. He winked at Nanny. "That line's not nearly as long as it looks. I seen lines longer than this start moving in ten minutes."

"Really?" Harriet asked, eyebrows rising.

"Oh, you betcha. Come on now, let's get in line." With a flick of his wrist, the line did indeed begin moving faster. Some kids decided they didn't care about seeing Santa after all (much to the bewildered fury of their parents, who had already put in two hours of waiting), some fell asleep in strollers and were quietly rolled away, and others suddenly had very full bladders that couldn't possibly wait another second. They were at the front much sooner than they could have imagined.

"Wow, you were right, this did move fast," Harriet said. "That's a relief."

Nanny gave Brother Francis a grateful smile. He dropped the buckteeth for a minute and gave an Aziraphale smile back. She'd been in such a temper, she hadn't thought of miracling the line faster, and was grateful he was here with her.

He leaned in and whispered in his normal voice, "Don't worry. You know I would never let you suffer like that, dear." He winked again and his buckteeth reappeared.

Crowley could still feel his breath in his ear. He felt the sudden urge to fan himself. His cheeks were warm. The mall and everyone in it began to fade away until only he and Aziraphale were left. He wished he could yank off the fake facial hair and feel the smooth, clean face on his palm. Take off that hat and run his fingers through—

"SANTA!" Crowley was jerked back to reality and into Nannydom as Warlock practically leaped onto Santa's lap. That poor mall employee had the most exhausted eyes Nanny had ever seen, and his lap had a few wet spots where the kids had been sitting. She hated watching Warlock grill him with his demands of "The bestest toys ever, and I wan' a GAZILLION of 'em!" and ask endless questions about the logistics of the north pole and its reindeer until security forced them to move along.

"_Now _may we move to the toy store?" she asked through clenched teeth. She could hardly wait to get back to the flat. Might have to stay there and sleep for the rest of the day and night just to soak up the quiet.

"Yeah, toy store!" Warlock cheered, enviously oblivious to the suffering around him. The adults all breathed a sigh of relief as they headed that way, and a few crowd fights later, Joy's Toys & Games stood in front of them. It, too, was packed full with children and parents fighting for the best deals and rushing to the registers with items in hand.

Harriet steered them to the "boy's toys," (such a silly thing, putting genders on children's toys; wherever did humans get that idea?) and followed Warlock as he proceeded to exclaim over every box and display he came across.

"Cool, Legos! Mommy, I want this," he said, handing it to her.

"Whoa, a Mickey board game! Here, Mommy," he said, handing it to her.

Similar reactions were had for stuffed animals, action figures, play sets, Hot Wheels, and pretty much everything except books and art-related toys. Nanny had a few less than charitable thoughts about Warlock not being smart or creative enough for those, but in the interests of getting this over with, she bit her tongue.

Harriet, however, did not. "Honey, you can't get everything you see in the store. And besides, we're not shopping for today, remember? We're looking to see what you want for Christmas so you can tell Santa about it in your letter."

"That's right, young master," Brother Francis said. "You won't be playing with these today, you'll be playing with them on beautiful Christmas morning."

"NO!" Warlock screamed, with a stricken face and tears welling in his eyes. "I want them now!"

"You'll have to wait until Christmas," Nanny said. "Just like all the other children."

"No!" Warlock insisted. "That's too long."

_Tell me about it, _Nanny thought. Never in her life had she wanted Christmas to come so badly.

Harriet took a deep breath. She was clearly trying her hardest to stay calm. "Warlock, we talked about this. We only came here to _look _at the toys so you could get some ideas for your list, not to buy them. But the good news is that you may get to unwrap these when Santa comes. Isn't that exciting?"

Warlock threw back his head and began to wail. Every head in the shop turned in their direction. Harriet dropped the toys and tried to pick him up only for him to wiggle out of her arms and cling to the boxes, screaming as high and loud as he could.

_I tried to be nice. _Nanny snatched him up and marched him right out of the store, him kicking and screeching all the way. Harriet and Brother Francis weren't far behind, but they did miss the…_persuasive _statement she whispered in his ear that made him shut up, though he was still red-faced, sniffling, and glaring icily at them all when she set him down.

"I think we'd better go home," Harriet said, sounding very tired. "Sorry it turned out this way." She walked on ahead of them toward the parking lot, leaving them to drag a sulking Warlock, who was doing his best to ignore them. As she passed, Nanny and Brother Francis caught a tear in her eye.

"Oh, the poor woman," Aziraphale said in a low voice. "She tried so hard to give her son a good Christmas, and this was how it turned out."

"Well, it's not over yet," Crowley pointed out. "There's still another week and a half."

"You're right. And I think for that week and a half, we should forget our objectives and just focus on giving this family a good Christmas."

Had he lost it? "You can't seriously—"

"I know it can't be forever," he said. "And I promise that once Christmas is over, we can go back to influencing the boy in our respective ways. But I feel the need to do this for them." He turned to Crowley. "I understand if you'd rather not. But I could really use your help."

Those eyes never ceased to quicken Crowley's heart. He couldn't say no if he tried.

"Okay," he said. "If it means that much, I'll do this thing with you."

That smile melted his bad mood and carried him all the way home.


End file.
